belle at the ball

replace the pictures
in the frames, the
heads so full of smile;
let the air out
of the balloons and
sweep the confetti off
the floor, the party,
sadly,
is no more; these years
they pass
with flying colors, for
my youth is the sand
sifting through the pinch,
and smile, and smile, and
smile some more so
at least i feel i've
moved and inch... the
banners are withered,
the dj's packed up,
and the host is drunk
from the whiskey-wine punch,
she's tired, her feet hurt, and
her hair's all a mess, and
there's a blood colored stain
cross the hem
of her dress, so
closing time has come,
again,
this cinderella trainwreck
should be going
to bed; wash her face,
wash her skin, wash
the memories away,
how much is
too much
on a day like today?

k.